Phoenix Tears
by Sharon Rose Black
Summary: It is the summer of 1996, and Harry is at the Dursleys brooding over the loss of his godfather. His friends come to rescue him, reveal a huge secret, and then the fun begins.
1. Chapter 1: Glimpses of Paradise

**Genre: **Alternative Universe

**Rating: M **

**Ships: **Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Canon Wizard/OC

**Disclaimer: **This fanfic was written prior to the release of _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. _As such, it does not take the events of Book Six into consideration.

Kia, Glynna, Marsha, Jamie, Judy, and any other spells, objects, or people that never before appeared in the _Harry Potter _series are my own creations. The lyrics to "Black Dog," "Magic Bus," "Candles in the Rain," and "Leather and Lace" were written by Led Zeppelin, The Who, Melanie Safka, and Stevie Nicks, respectively. "The Starry Asylum" was written by Mendyl Sharden. The rest belong to J.K. Rowling and/or Warner Brothers.

**Dedication: **Written by a Sirius fan, for Sirius fans.

**Chapter 1: Glimpses of Paradise**

"When did you say the boy returns to St. Brutus's, Vernon?" Harry heard Aunt Marge bellow downstairs.

"September first!" Uncle Vernon bellowed back. "Hardly soon enough for me!"

"Me either," said Harry, staring dismally at his bedroom ceiling.

As usual, none of the Dursleys remembered that tomorrow was his birthday. No one came upstairs with a present, a card, or even to congratulate him for surviving sixteen years–an accomplishment in itself in Harry's case. He planned to spend the day as he had any other this summer: in his bedroom reading _The Quibbler_ and _The Daily Prophet_, writing Professor Snape's nasty essay, and perhaps catching up on some letters. At least his friends would remember his birthday, although the Dursleys never did. Not that he expected differently, not after fifteen years.

Harry spent a great deal of time in his bedroom these days, which he did quite willingly rather than subject himself to Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's constant badgering. This week, due to Aunt Marge's visit, he sought refuge there even more than usual. While the Dursleys devoured a sumptuous salmon dinner downstairs, Harry sat at his desk nibbling a cheese sandwich and canned tomato soup, which Aunt Petunia had pushed through the cat flap in the door.

There were several improvements over past summers, which led Harry to believe that the Dursleys had taken the warnings of his fellow wizards to heart. Uncle Vernon remained his usual nasty self, but at least he didn't try to lock Harry in his room anymore, although he strongly encouraged him to stay there. Aunt Petunia now grilled the sandwiches and heated his soup rather than serving them to him as cold ingredients, and icily ordered him to push a note through the cat flap if he fancied seconds. Dudley avoided him like the plague whenever he was home, which wasn't often, because he, Malcolm, Gordon, and Piers spent most of their evenings terrorizing the neighborhood (Harry kept hoping that they would be arrested for some of their shenanigans, but he somehow doubted this would ever happen). Aunt Marge and Ripper also avoided Harry, but while he couldn't avoid hearing the insults she trumpeted from below, he could hardly repress his laughter at the fearful expression that crossed her face whenever he came into the room. Not that she was exactly aware of _why _she suddenly felt frightened in Harry's presence; the Ministry of Magic had seen to that. Harry suspected, however, that deep in her subconscious lurked a memory of expanding like a beach ball and sailing over Little Whinging like a dirigible.

The only other thing that Harry found amusing these days were some of the articles published in _The Quibbler_, which he had subscribed to out of gratitude for the article they printed about him during the previous school year. Much to his surprise, Harry found a strange kind of solace in reading the increasingly outrageous scoops. "Umbridge Gives Birth to Space Alien's Baby! Fudge in Denial, as Usual!" blinked one set of headlines above a foul photograph of an even fouler Umbridge, who sat on a park bench pulling ludicrous faces as she bounced an insect-like infant on her knee. Meanwhile, off to the side, an irritated Fudge chewed his bowler hat. Another article featured a group of house elves building a rocket out of tin cans and firecrackers beneath the headline: "Disgruntled House Elves Escape to Uranus." But the article Harry found most amusing had appeared in this morning's edition . On the front page was Lucius Malfoy, attired in a set of emerald robes, while Rodolphus LeStrange stood beside him in a wedding dress, batting his eyes and smiling lovingly into Lucius' face. "Wizardly Wedding of the Century: Lucius and Rodolphus wed in Azkaban. Bellatrix and Narcissa Enraged," twinkled the headlines, first in red, then in green.

Hermione had always said that _The Quibbler_ was full of rubbish, but it was one of the few things that seemed to take Harry's mind of the recent death of his godfather. He thought of Sirius often, trying to remember the happier times, like the night that he and Hermione had rescued him from the dementors. Hermione had been terrified of flying, even on Buckbeak, but Harry still remembered how Sirius' laughter rang out through the night, like that of a muggle kid on a roller coaster. Not surprisingly, Harry rarely heard this sound since, because the last fifteen years of Sirius' life had been far worse than the first eleven of his own.

Twelve of these years, Sirius had spent locked up in Azkaban for a crime he never committed. Two he had lived on the run, occasionally eating rats in order to survive. And his final year he'd spent as a virtual prisoner in his childhood home–a place that held nothing but unpleasant memories for him.

The pain Harry felt over the loss of Sirius had only intensified once the initial shock wore off. Some days, it hurt worse than it had in the beginning. Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid all avoided mentioning him in their letters, which relieved and annoyed Harry at the same time. On one hand, he found talking about Sirius far more painful than thinking about him. On the other, it sometimes seemed as though Sirius never existed to any of them, which saddened and angered Harry all the more. Only Luna Lovegood seemed to understand how he felt, and she wasn't even his closest friend. "Look at it this way, Harry," she'd written recently. "At least he died in battle, which is how everybody said he wanted to go. And where he is now, the death eaters and dementors can't bother him anymore. He's free, probably having a grand time with your dad and mum, and I'm sure that all three of them are watching over you now, as my own mum is watching over me." She closed the letter by asking him to send her regards to Neville Longbottom should he happen to hear from him over the summer.

The thought gave Harry a bit of comfort, and he once again turned to _The Quibbler_. On page three, he found an article that caught his eye:

_**Dementors Reject First Kiss**_

_For the first time in the history of wizardkind, dementors have rejected a human soul. The victim, who shall remain anonymous at the request of his family, is alleged to be one of the many death eaters who recently escaped Azkaban under the leadership of the Sirius Black._

_The man was attacked on July 23 by no less than thirty dementors, each of whom spewed the man's soul from under his hood after performing what is commonly known as the Kiss. Strangely enough, after every instance, eyewitnesses stated that the soul found its way back to its owner, sputtering through the air like a deflating balloon._

_No one at the Ministry of Magic knows for certain what caused this strange occurrence, although Amelia Bones seems to believe that the man's family may have placed him under an ancient Egyptian spell. Bones also stated that this spell hasn't been practiced since the days of the Pharaohs and is said to be dangerous._

_The man is currently being held in an undisclosed location, where he shall remain until he regains consciousness, although the healers in charge of his case are questioning the likelihood of such an occurrence. Should he recover, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, stated that the man will be returned to Azkaban, where he will finish the remainder of his life sentence._

Harry knew that Fred and George would find this article hysterical, but he found it disturbing. This was partly because of his own gruesome encounters with dementors, and partly because they had tormented Sirius during his imprisonment in Azkaban and relentlessly hunted him after his escape. As unhappy as he was with his headmaster at the moment, Harry had to agree with Dumbledore on one thing: there _were_ worse things than death, and a dementor's kiss was one of them.

Harry wadded up _The Quibbler,_ threw it across the room,and then picked up the morning's edition of _The Daily Prophet. _He still thumbed through it every day for news about Lord Voldemort, but rarely read further than the headlines. No news on Voldemort today. In fact, the most newsworthy thing happening in his world right now was that the head of St. Mungo's was retiring, and they were looking for someone to fill his position. And that was reported three days ago.

Harry looked at the clock on his dresser and realized it was two in the morning. He'd been sixteen for two hours, not that he cared, since the one thing that would make him happy–to see Sirius alive again--was the one thing he couldn't have. Angry and frustrated, he tossed _The Daily Prophet_ aside and crawled into bed.

For a long time, he looked at a picture he had taken from the album Hagrid had given him, which he now kept in a frame on his night stand. It was a picture of his parents dancing at their wedding. Sirius, their best man, stood beside them with a dark-haired woman on his arm, who gazed up at him with adoration in her eyes. The three of them smiled at him and waved.

How beautiful his mother and this woman had looked! How happy his father and Sirius seemed! Was it possible that, when the photograph had been taken, his parents had already been marked for death? Had Sirius had any idea of what the future held for him? Tears stung the corner of Harry's eyes, but he was too proud to let them fall.

"Keep an eye on them, Mum," he whispered, before taking off his glasses and turning out the lamp.

Harry laid awake in the darkness for a long time. Sleep was another thing he fought these days, because it always brought with it the same nightmares. Of Voldemort killing his parents. Of Cedric dying beside him at the tournament, and of the horrific ceremony that followed. And finally, of Sirius' murder at the hands of his cousin, Bellatrix LeStrange, a woman Harry now hated more than Dolores Umbridge, Peter Pettigrew, or even Lord Voldemort.

Please, Mum, he thought desperately. Please don't let me fall asleep. Don't let the nightmares come. Better still, just let me die so I can be free of it all and be with you and Dad and Sirius again. Please...

Suddenly, Harry heard the beautiful, familiar song of a phoenix and felt himself caught up in a magical whirlwind of blue and silver. A few moments later, he felt like he was floating. He felt the cool sensation of water washing across his body, the golden warmth of the sun upon his face, and the taste of salt in his mouth. Cautiously, he opened his eyes.

He was lying on an inflatable raft near a beach he had never seen before. The ocean reflected the blue sky, and the sun sparkled upon the waves like diamonds. A white, sandy beach that lead to palm trees and green, grassy hills lay ahead of him. High above, Buckbeak, Hedwig, Pigwidgeon, and Errol played tag with a golden snitch.

"Harry!" someone called.

Harry sat up and spotted a pretty young woman with long red hair waving at him from the shore. She wore a red-and-white flowered mini-dress, and at first he though she was his mother. Then realized that she was Ginny, Ron Weasley's younger sister.

Harry slid off the raft and swam for the shore. "Where are we?" he asked as he approached her.

"We're spending the summer here," said Ginny. "Sirius invited all of us to stay with him on his private island. Don't you remember?"

"Sirius?" Harry said in disbelief. "That...can't be. He's...dead...isn't he?"

"No," Ginny laughed. "All the idiots in the Ministry _think_ so, but he just faked it, like that famous muggle singer from the States. Elvin...oh, I can't think of his name right now. But Sirius is right over there," she said, pointing to a tall coconut tree. "See?"

Harry turned his head and saw Sirius sprawled out on a red and gold blanket, his toes buried deeply in the warm white sand. He wore nothing except a pair of red swim trunks and had a drink with a little red umbrella in it at his side. An olive skinned woman with long black hair cradled his head lovingly in her lap, and he playfully nipped at her fingers as she fluttered them around his mouth. She then grabbed a wand and dangled a bunch of purple grapes above him, snatching them away playfully when he lunged for them. The woman seemed vaguely familiar to Harry, although he never recalled speaking to her before. Sirius sat up and waved.

"Isn't this the life?" he grinned, like a kid on the last day of school. His face looked twenty years younger, and his teeth were no longer decayed and broken. "No Ministry, no dementors, and no Voldemort! And all because I faked my own death!"

Harry was infuriated. Sirius-and everybody else-had lead him to believe he that was _dead_ for a _month and a half! _While he'd been grieving at the Dursleys, they'ed all been having the time of their lives on a private island! Without _him! Again!!!_ He wanted scream, to yell that feigning death was Pettigrew's specialty. But when he realized that Sirius was not only alive, but healthy and happy, his anger dissolved as quickly as it had flared.

"Well, whatever works," he relented, giving his godfather a rough hug. He then glanced at Ginny, who stood smiling at his side, and was amazed at how pretty she'd become.

"HARRY POT-TERRRRRR!!!!"

"Oh no," he groaned. The voice belonged to his Uncle Vernon, who was pounding on the bedroom door.


	2. Chapter 2: Unexpected Birthday Guests

-1**Chapter 2: Unexpected Birthday Guests**

"GET OUT OF BED, BOY!" roared Uncle Vernon. "GET OUT OF BED RIGHT NOW!!!"

Before Harry even managed to put on his glasses, Uncle Vernon kicked in the bedroom door, rattling the bolts of the numerous padlocks he had put on there four summers ago. He grabbed Harry by the arm and jerked him out of bed. "DIDN'T YOU _HEAR_ ME, BOY??? GET OUT OF BED RIGHT NOW!!!"

"What did I do this time?" Harry asked curtly.

"WHAT DID YOU DO??? _WHAT DID YOU DO_??? GET OVER HERE, BOY, AND I'LL _SHOW_ YOU!!!"

Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the scruff of the neck and steered him towards a window in Dudley's bedroom that overlooked the front garden. Harry looked outside and dropped his jaw. A 1980 Dodge van, splattered with purple and orange paint, with the words "Magic Bus" printed in big red-and-black letters on the side, was parked in the Dursley's driveway. A moment later, Harry noticed Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, and Tonks walking across the perfectly manicured lawn towards the front door. With the exception of Ron, who wore ripped jeans and a tie-dye T-shirt, all of them had dressed in clothes that went out of fashion at least twenty years ago. Fred and George sported matching mop-top haircuts, and wore suits that looked like a cross between modern gothic and the mod look of the 1960s. Hermione wore a blue and purple flowered mini-dress, go-go boots, love beads, and a garland of daisies in her hair. Tonks, of course, dressed the most outrageously, with her spiked pink and purple hair, nose ring, purple leather corset, black spandex pants, and four inch heels. She looked like a cross between Joan Jett and Cyndi Lauper.

Harry turned to Uncle Vernon, whose face went from red to purple. "WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE??? WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE???" he screamed, spraying Harry's face with spit.

"Them? Oh, they're just some of my friends," Harry replied matter-of-factly. "That's Fred and George in front, you met them summer before last, remember? Ron and Hermione are right behind them, and Tonks..."

"THEY'RE NOT WELCOME HERE!!! YOU CAN'T TALK TO THEM!!! GO DOWNSTAIRS AND TELL THEM TO GO AWAY!!!"

"Enlighten me. How can I tell them to go away when I'm not allowed to talk to them?"

"The boy has a point, Vernon," said Aunt Petunia from the doorway.

Uncle Vernon turned to his wife, and his complexion lightened a shade or two. "Fine!" he hissed. _"You_ get rid of them then, Petunia!"

"Absolutely not!" replied Aunt Petunia, scandalized. "I don't want the neighbors to see me talking to those...those…those ruffians! They'll _talk,_ Vernon. About _us."_Harry heard the doorbell ring, and Aunt Marge answered it. Then he heard Ron's voice. "Is Harry here?"

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked at each other hopelessly, while Aunt Marge snapped loudly, "No, no one named Harry here!"

Harry stepped onto the stairway in time to see Aunt Marge try to slam the door in his friends' faces, but George wedged his foot in the crack before she could do so. "I know who you are!" he deadpanned. "You're Aunt Marge."

"Yeah," added Fred, equally straight-faced. "Harry's told us _all _about you. And you're every bit as beautiful as he said you were!"

Aunt Marge gasped, narrowed her little, piggy eyes, and dropped her jaw.

"How dare..." she began.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" interrupted George.

"Bad manners not to," said Fred.

Aunt Marge huffed and stepped aside, as one by one the group filtered into the Dursley's living room . "So," began George. "Been air ballooning late...ow, Hermione!"

"Behave!" Hermione hissed, after gouging George's back.

"Hi guys," said Harry from the stairs. "What's going on?"

"Well," said Ron. "Since this is your birthday, we thought we'd come get you for the rest of the summer."

"Yeah," added Tonks, tripping over some of Dudley's wrestling gear. "And you can tell the muggles we shan't be leaving without you."

Harry glanced at his uncle and aunt, who clung to one another desperately in the doorway of Dudley's bedroom. It always amazed Harry that they had been married for at least seventeen years, but never actually touched one another unless they were threatened by the presence of a wizard or a witch.

"You heard them," Harry shrugged.

"Okay!" Uncle Vernon snarled. "Go then! And good riddance! You have exactly fifteen minutes to pack your trunk and get out of my sight!"

"Wanna help, guys?" Harry asked.

Fred, George, and Ron went upstairs to help Harry pack, while Tonks and Hermione stayed below with Aunt Marge. All the while, Harry strained his ears to hear bits and pieces of the conversation.

"Here," said Fred, tossing him an extendable ear. "Leave the packing to us."

"Hmmph! You children today are _sooooo_ ill-mannered!" Aunt Marge sneered, in a voice Harry could hear quite well _without _the extendable ear. "Dressing like vagabonds, using vulgar expressions the likes of which I've never heard!"

"Vulgar expressions?" Tonks asked quizzically. "What are you on about?

"Don't you be insolent with me, girl! You know _exactly_ what I mean!"

"I think she's referring to the word 'muggle,' Tonks," said Hermione.

"Oh that?" said Tonks, waving her hand. "A muggle is just someone who isn't..."

"Trendy," Hermione finished. "You know, people that are a bit old fashioned."

"Hmmph! There's a lot to be said for being old fashioned!" Aunt Marge retorted, eyeing Tonks' and Hermione's clothing. "Take your clothing, for instance! Have your mothers seen you in these get-ups?"

"This 'get-up' _was_ my mum's!" Hermione snapped defensively. "It was the dress she wore on her first date with dad, and she's handed it down to me!"

"Did she, now?" huffed Aunt Marge. "Well, rest assured that when I was in college, I would _never_ have been caught attired in something so...so..._slutty!"_

"Thank God for that!" Hermione retorted. "You probably would have looked like a flowered air balloon!"

Harry snorted. It was the first time he'd laughed in weeks.

"Hermione, that wasn't nice," chided Tonks. "The poor woman obviously has no self-esteem. All she needs is a little make-over! Now...close your eyes, Miss Dursley!"

"I will do no such thing!" huffed Aunt Marge.

"All set, Harry?" asked Ron.

"Yeah, let's go," said Harry.

Fred and George lifted Harry's trunk and carried it downstairs. Ron followed behind them. Harry took Hedwig in her cage and followed Ron. Before he reached the landing, he heard a "poof," and saw a disintegrating cloud of smoke. His jaw dropped to the floor, both in shock and amusement.

Tonks had magically squeezed Aunt Marge into a black leather mini-skirt, a tight pink tank top, and red pumps with four inch heels. Her short, mousy brown hair was now long and blonde, and spiked like that of a hair band's lead singer.

"Ah, smashing," Tonks smiled, handing Aunt Marge a mirror.

Aunt Marge snatched it from Tonks's hand, took one look at herself, and bellowed like a hippopotamus in labor.

"Um…I...think we better leave now," said Hermione.

The six of them dashed towards the van as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon descended upon Aunt Marge. They loaded Harry's things in the back and piled inside as Uncle Vernon burst through the front door, ripping at his moustache, his beet red face turning purple. George tried to back the van out of the driveway, but put it in gear by mistake, ramming into the rear of Uncle Vernon's new BMW.

"Should we stop and put it right, Mate?" Fred asked.

"Naw," said Harry. "They have insurance. Just drive."

George backed the van across the Dursley's immaculate lawn and onto Privet Drive, squealing his tires as he peeled away from the house. Harry saw that Uncle Vernon was pursuing them for a short distance before he stopped, sank to his knees, and let out a roar that could be heard throughout the entire neighborhood.

"Nice van," Harry said when they turned the corner. "Does it fly?"

"Of course," said George. "Along with a few other things."

"Which aren't perfected yet," Hermione reminded them pointedly.

"The invisibility booster is perfected, though," Fred said. "Is anyone looking, Ron?"

"No," said Ron, after a quick glance out the window.

"Good," said Fred, pushing a button on the dashboard. "Just in case your uncle decides to send the boobies after us."

"I think you mean 'bobbies,' Fred," Hermione corrected.

"Same difference," said Fred. "Wanna hand us something to drink, Ron?"

Ron opened an ice chest and passed out some bottles of pumpkin juice. "May as well eat lunch now," he said, handing out chicken and ham sandwiches. "Oh, Harry, I almost forgot. Mum made you some of those treacle tarts you like."

"Thanks," said Harry. "So…are we staying at the Burrow this summer?"

"Well, no," said Ron. "Dumbledore said that as long as you're with us, we're better off staying at Grimmauld Place."

"Oh," said Harry, the heaviness in his heart returning.

"Don't worry, mate," Ron said. "It'll be great, I promise! Mum's remodeled, and Dumbledore's made a lot of improvements. He asked Dobby and the house elves to add a garage for Fred and George to keep the van in, and he also put charms on the back garden so Buckbeak can go outside and we can practice Quidditch. Oh, I almost forgot," he added, pulling something out from under the seat and handing it to Harry. "Dumbledore told us to give this to you when you came to stay with us. Both he and McGonagall want you back on the team."

Harry took it carefully. It was his Firebolt–a gift from Sirius three Christmases ago. Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them back before he let them meet Ron's. "Thanks," he said simply. "So...what have you and Hermione been doing this summer?"

"Well..." Hermione began. "I know this is going to seem sort of..._weird_ to you, but Ron and I have decided...well, see for yourself."

Hermione extended her hand. A small, oval sapphire and two tiny diamonds twinkled exquisitely in a dainty gold ring.

"You mean you...and Ron…?" Harry asked.

"Well...yeah," Ron said. "You're not mad, are you mate?"

"No," said Harry. "Why should I be? You two have always fought like an old married couple anyway, so…congratulations!"

As Harry hugged both Hermione and Ron, a siren began to shrill behind them. "Tonks," said Hermione anxiously. "Do you really think you should have put that spell on Harry's aunt? I mean, if the Ministry..."

"Why worry," Tonks shrugged. "We're invisible. Besides, the ministry has enough to worry about right now without coming down on me for a little thing like that. Like that incident at the Department of..."

"Tonks!" shouted Hermione.

"Sorry," Tonks said, biting her lip.

An awkward silence descended on the van, which made Harry feel uneasy. Much to his relief, George finally spoke. "Fancy some music?" he asked, turning to his twin.

"Yeah," replied Fred, turning on the radio. "Aaah, my favorite song," he said, playing air guitar as "Magic Bus" blared through the speakers.

"Its where we got the name for the van," George said.

"I've always thought muggles were better musicians than wizards," said Fred.

"Me too. All we have are Celestina Warbeck, the Weird Sisters, and Wands and Poppies. Muggles have all the cool bands," George added, before he and his twin launched into the refrain. _"Oooh, waaah, the magic bus! Magic bus! Magic bus! Now I got my magic bus. Oooh, waah, the magic bus..."_

"_Hey, hey Mama, see the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove..." _

"Dadadadada DA da, dadadadadada DA da, dadadadadada da daaaaah..." sang Fred and George with the guitar riffs between the verses.

"_A-ah child, with the way you swing, gonna make you burn, gonna make you sting..."_

"Dadadadada DA da, dadadadadada DA da dadadadadada da daaaaah..."

"_Hey, hey, baby, when you walk this way, watch your honey drip, can't keep away..."_

"Who are these guys, anyway?" asked Harry.

Fred gasped in mock horror. "What? You live with _muggles, _and you've never heard of Led Zeppelin?"

"That's blasphemy!" said George.

"They have this guitarist..."

"...that everyone thinks is a wizard."

"It's true! He makes all these cool noises come out of a black box..."

"...just by waving his hand!"

"That's rubbish!" Hermione said. "He makes those sound effects with a theramin and a wah-wah pedal, both of which run on electricity."

"And how would you know so much about it?" Ron sneered. "Oh, I forgot! You're sweet on their lead singer, aren't you?"

"Well," Hermione simpered, "I must admit he _is_ rather handsome, for a man in his late forties."

"You would," said Ron. "Looks like Lockhart, he does!"

"He _does not!" _huffed Hermione defensively.

Ron grabbed an old copy of _The Rolling Stone_ from under the seat. A male singer with long blonde, wavy hair graced the cover. "Harry, don't you think this git looks like Lockhart?"

Harry studied the cover. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "Lockhart's hair is shorter, though. By the way, what's this song called?"

Dead silence would have filled the van again, were it not for the blaring radio. Fred and George exchanged furtive glances in the front seat. Ron looked out the window. Tonks dropped her eyes. Hermione bit her lip.

"Did I say something?" Harry asked.

Nobody replied at first, but finally, Hermione spoke:

"The name of the song, Harry, is 'Black Dog.'"


	3. Chapter 3: Nothing Seriously Wrong

-1**Chapter 3: Nothing Seriously Wrong**

Harry was silent for a few moments. Then he exploded.

"Will everybody please CUT THE CRAP ALREADY???"

"You just _had _to open your big mouth, didn't you, Hermione?" said Ron.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Hermione. "I won't bring it up again."

"That's what I mean! Crikey, you won't even mention a _song_ title to me for fear of upsetting me!"

"Harry, I said I was sorry," repeated Hermione softly. "But to tell you the truth, we...really don't know what we can and can't say to you anymore. One minute, you act like you don't want to talk about it; the next, you blow up if we try to avoid the subject."

"Just tell us what you want, mate," said Ron. "It's us. Your friends. Remember?"

"I'm sorry," Harry sighed. "But to tell the truth, _I_ don't know what I want! I mean, I don't like talking about it, but I don't like pretending he never existed either! And by the way, 'he' had a name, and when we _do_ talk about him, I'd appreciate it if you would use it! It isn't like he's Lord Vol..."

As usual, everybody gasped. Harry shut his eyes. "You-know-who," he finished. "Does this make any sense?"

"Well, sort of," said Ron. "But did you ever stop to think that he…I mean that Sirius might not be..."

"Ron!" snapped Hermione.

Harry looked from Ron's guilty face to Hermione's. "Might not be what?" he asked warily.

"Nothing," said Hermione quickly, lowering her eyes.

"No, you started to tell me something," Harry insisted. "Now out with it!"

Ron looked sheepishly at Tonks, and then at Hermione. "Well, wouldn't it be better if we just _told_ him? I mean…since…the subject's come up..."

"No, Ron. It's better if he hears it from your parents!" Tonks said.

"What's…going on?" Harry demanded.

"Nothing's wrong with Sirius!" Ron blurted out.

"I think you _meant_ to say that nothing's _seriously_ wrong, _didn't_ you, Ronald?" Hermione said pointedly.

"With Sirius?" asked George.

"I disagree," said Fred.

"Will you two clowns be quiet!" snapped Hermione. "You _know_ we're supposed to wait for your parents to tell him!"

"Well, somebody _better_ tell me, or I'm going to explode!" warned Harry.

Ron glanced at Hermione, then at Tonks, who rolled her eyes. "Oh, go ahead!" sighed Tonks. "The cat's out of the bag now, isn't it? But Harry, when Arthur and Molly bring it up..."

"I won't let on," promised Harry. "Now out with it!"

"Well," began Fred. "The good news is, they've found Sirius…"

"…and he isn't dead," finished George.

Harry was silent. "This isn't funny," he snapped nastily.

"They're…not trying to be," Hermione said earnestly. "Nobody in this van would _ever_ tease you in such a calloused manner. Don't you realize that?"

Harry lowered his eyes, ashamed at his outburst. He realized Hermione was right, but being told that Sirius was still alive, after spending the summer trying to come to terms with his loss, seemed almost too cruel.

"Okay, supposing 'they' did find him," he said, lowering his defenses. "Why hasn't anyone told me?"

"Well, Harry, I think that's rather obvious," said Hermione. "The only way we could have contacted you is through owl post, and with everything being watched, a letter like that could have put everyone in very grave danger. Especially Sirius."

"Well, how did he get back through the veil?" Harry demanded. "Remus said that was impossible."

"No one knows, Harry," said Tonks. "We're hoping that when he comes around, he'll tell us something."

"What do you mean, 'when he comes around?'"

"Well, he's been unconscious since they found him..."

"And are you sure it's really _him? _I mean, what if its just some death eater or some…"

"Mad-Eye found him, Harry," Tonks explained. "Staggering around the Ministry in his dog form, not two days after he disappeared. When Sirius spied Mad-Eye, he transfigured back into himself. That probably took what little strength he had left."

"It him, Harry," Hermione said. "You can believe us."

Harry let the words sink in, then nodded. "Where is he?"

"At St. Mungo's," Hermione said. "I've been doing volunteer work there this summer because I'm thinking of becoming a healer. I've been helping Kia take care of him. Anyway, he's alive, but the hit burned him pretty badly. He's also running fever and has some internal injuries."

"Internal injuries?"

"Yes. He isn't _bleeding_ internally, but Kia's afraid he might if he's handled carelessly. You can thank Bellatrix, and whatever spell she cast, for that."

Harry sighed. "Will he recover?"

"Kia's doing everything she can," Hermione assured him. "She thinks he should be healing much faster, but told me yesterday that he's starting to respond when she talks to him. And sometimes he cries out when she dresses his burns…"

"Who's _Kia?" _Harry demanded.

"Sirius' healer," said Fred.

"Yeah," said George. "She's taking _very_ good care of him, no worries there!"

"Fluffs his pillow at least four or five times a day..."

"...an hour..."

"...a minute..."

"...a second..."

"Not to mention, she's drop dead gorgeous!"

"Makes you wonder if the bloke's staying sick on purpose!"

"We've been thinking of taking fainting fancies..."

"Just so we can wake up and see Kia's beautiful face hovering over our pil..."

"Will you two _please_ pipe down?" snapped Hermione. "She's old enough to be your mother!"

"Has a temper like Mum's too," added Ron. "The other day, the Welcome Witch started asking her too many questions, and she let her have it."

"The Welcome Witch that calls everyone 'hon'?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, that one," said Ron.

Harry was silent for a few seconds. "I want to see him," he stated simply.

"That's been arranged," said Tonks. "Remus plans to escort you there tomorrow after..."

"Not tomorrow! Today! Now! If he should...if anything should happen..."

Harry's voice caught, and he couldn't go on.

Tonks sighed. "Okay. But if Molly asks, we had a flat tire. Okay?"

Harry nodded, and another hush fell over the van. "Harry," Ron ventured cautiously. "There's…something else I think we need to warn you about."

"_What?" _Harry demanded irritably.

"Well, when you actually _do _see Sirius, you're going to be in for a bit of a shock."

"Why? Is he disfigured or something?"

"Well, no! I mean, yes! I mean…well…it's all the way you look at it." said Ron.

"Just spit it out!" said Harry.

"He's only burned across his chest and upper abdomen, Harry," Hermione said. "If he scars, and Kia is hoping that with the medicine she's using he won't, it will be in that area. As for being disfigured, I guess you can say he is, or at least he will think he is. But it's only temporary."

"What do you mean?" Harry snapped, growing more impatient by the minute.

"Well, nothing major…except his…nose is a bit more crooked," waffled Ron. "And his hair is sort of greasy."

"So his nose is broken and his hair is dirty," Harry shrugged. "I can deal with that."

"Maybe you can, but we're not sure how Sirius will react when he wakes up. In fact, we're afraid he might try to kill someone."

"What _Ronald_ is trying to say, Harry, is that the people who have been sitting with Sirius have been slipping polyjuice potion under his tongue."

"Really? Why?" Harry asked.

"Well, they had to disguise him to get him into St. Mungos, you know," said Ron. "So Mum found some polyjuice potion at Grimmauld place, and then went looking about for a strand of hair. And she found one."

"Okay? So what's the problem?" Harry asked.

"Well, let's put it this way," said Ron. "Would you mind terribly having…Snape…as a godfather? Just for a little while?"

Harry took a deep breath, and exhaled very, very slowly. "Snape's going along with it?"

"Well, yeah," said Ron.

"He's the one brewing the potion," said Fred.

"At the request of Dumbledore, of course," added George, winking. "Not that anyone believes he wouldn't do it out of the pure goodness of his heart."

Harry took another deep breath, letting this latest information sink in. "Fine," he said. "If it will keep him alive, I'll go along with it. Just don't let him see his own reflection."


End file.
